Ragdoll
by Child of Gotham City
Summary: Welcome to his world. And planet Ragdoll, is a world of hurt. WARNING OC
1. Dead men may tell tales

Have you ever thought about where you come from? I don't mean your parents. I mean really, really far back. Think medieval times. Where would your family be? Would they be the knights, the lords, or the peasants?

I already know my answer. I don't know. Nobody knows anything about my past, not even me. After all, who would want to find the identity of a dead teenager? Certainly not the guy who made me, and I guess that kind of rubbed off. Intrigued? I was until I found the truth. Dead men tell no tales, but I might tell you mine. In a while. Or not. You never can tell with corpses.


	2. Self discovery is a bad thing

The boy opened his eyes with a whole body jerk. He looked around, terrified at what he saw, before the sedatives kicked in and he sank back onto the metal slab. Around him, bottles, syringes and test tubes reflected the light of an over-head operating lamp. The boy still fought, but it was with much less energy then before, and he eventually gave up completely, resorting to glaring at the figure in front of him. The figure stepped forwards, into the bright light of the lamp, and sat himself down in a chair opposite the operating table. "Hello," he said, in an accent hard to identify. "My name is doctor Richard Strumm. do you remember yours?"

No awnser from the boy, who continued glaring at Strumm with hatred in his eyes. Strumm sighed, and tried aproaching the subject from a different angle. "I know you must be feeling scared, but the only way..." He stopped abruptly, as a strange sound came from the boy. For a moment Strumm thought he was chocking, but after a moment he realised that the boy was laughing. It wasn't like any human laugh the doctor had heard; it was grating and metallic, mocking and cruel, not humerus at all. The boy eventually stopped laughing, and spoke for the first time. "So. You reckon that I'm feeling scared, huh?" When no awnser came from Strumm, the boy continued. "Sure I've woken up on a big operating table. I'm surrounded by what looks like internal organs in jars. There's a large rack of needles, a pile of thread, and for some reason, a pile of dewlap sacks. But I'm not scared. Oh no."

Strumm looked surprised at this. He hadn't expected the boy to be talking so soon after the operation, and even if he did, he would never of expected well formed scentences. Clearing his throat, he made to summon his assistant to sedate the boy once more. The words died in his mouth as his neck broke clean in two. The boy released his hold on the dead man's neck, and ripped the rest of his body free from thee metal bindings. For a moment he stood there, marveling at his incredible power and the ease with which he snapped the man's neck. But he had no time to think any more as Strumm's assistant came into the room, saw her dead employer and started screaming. The boy backed into the wall, and the suddenly the wall wasn't there any more and he fell out of the building, bricks and mortar falling with him.

* * *

By the time the police arrived, the boy was long gone. But he stayed a little while to watch the scene unfold. He made an odd sight, a sixteen year old boy dressed in torn and tattered clothes, covered in stitches and patches of dewlap. Looking down at himself, the boy seemed to think for a moment, then nodded in self confirmation. "Ragdoll. Thats my new name. Ragdoll" Smiling to himself, Ragdoll walked away from the police, towards the city centre. He put his hands in his tattered jeans pockets and started to whistle a jaunty tune, a cross between the sailors hornpipe and spring from the four seasons. People stared at him as he walked, but he ignored them, and just kept walking. Eventually he found an old abandoned motel that had been closed for plumbing reasons and had never reopened. Settling himself down on one of the beds, Ragdoll looked down at his chest and smiled. It was covered in stitches, patches, and was incredibly muscular. A small frown crossed his face as he noticed that so far, he hadn't cared, or noticed, where he was. Sitting up, he started to think. He'd woken up on an operating table but what had happned before that. What had that doctor done to him? Ragdoll thought hard, but there was nothing. He had no memories.

With a cry, he leapt off the bed and started to run around the room, looking for anything that might jog his memory. Nothing. A newspaper caught his eye, and he practically ran over to it, knocking over chairs and scattering insects. Grasping the paper, he squinted at the title; "Joker detonates bomb, teen killed.". Hmm, yes very sad, but that doesn't awnser his - Wait a moment, he was a teenager, was that him? Ragdoll looked all over the main photo, but all he could see was the wreckage of the bomb detonation, no bodies anywhere. Either he was obscured by rubble or that doctor was a very fast worker. Damn it.

Ragdoll lay down on the bed again, only this time with a forlorn expression instead of a smile. No memories, super strength, incredible damage resistance, and just to top it off he might be insane. Ragdoll sighed. Then got up again and alked over to the newspaper. Ignoring the depressing main picture and headline, he scanned down the page and came to what he was looking for. "Joker still looking for hired help". Ragdoll grinned again. This could be good, or at least something to do. Taking the news paper with him to the bed, he laid down again, opened the newspaper, and read until he fell asleep.

* * *

Okay, just a couple of notices.

This Ragdoll is not like the other ones. For a start, he isn't a contortionist, just a biologicly altered human. Sorry is I got your hopes up.

Yes, Ragdoll is dead. He'll find out later.

The Elseworld that Ragdoll lives in is a much younger version of BTAS. Harley, Ivy, Ragdoll and Joker are all teenagers, Batman's probably in his twenties, and thats all I have done for now.

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	3. The right look for the right job

Ragdoll hated crowds. The seething mass of bodies, the many voices, the stentch of humanity. Still, it was a necessary evil, as he needed to get one to pass unnoticed. Still, he was drawing many stares from passers by. Dressed in an old tattered black hooded sweatshirt, with ripped and torn jeans, he must have cut a striking figure. But no one stopped him, se he continued on his way. He eventually came to a street corner, and pulling out the newspaper from the day before, he looked at it. Nodding his head, he turned around, and knocked on the door of a closed night club. A female voice rang out.

"Sorry, we're closed. Come back tonight."

"I'm here about the job,"

"Oh really? And what makes you think we'll let you have the job?"

"Perhaps I didn't make myself clear. I'm here about the job. So let me in, or this door becomes a floor."

The female voice stopped talking, and was replaced by the sound of several bolts being drawn back. The door creaked open, and Ragdoll walked inside. Instantly something huge whacked against his head, followed by a snapping sound as whatever it was broke against his head. Ragdoll shook himself like a dog, and looked around. A shocked voice came out from somewhere. "Umm, your meant to fall down now." Ragdoll smiled and hit the light switch in the wall. As the lights came on he saw a Teenage girl in a jesters costume grin sheepishly at him, holding a giant, cracked and splintered wooden mallet. "So, are you going to fall down now?"

Ragdoll shook his head again, smiling. "Ain't happening. So about that job?"

"Yeh, the job. I'll take ya to Mr J" With that, the girl walked away, indicating that Ragdoll should follow. Ragdoll smiled again, and followed, looking around as he went. It was typical of most nightclubs, disco balls, a dancefloor, even a bar. Ragdoll wondered breifly what kind of villian would set up in a club, before discarding it in favour of thinking about his possible job. Eventually the girl walked into a bigger side room, where someone was sitting hunched over a desk. "Puddin! Ummm, whats your name?"

"Ragdoll"

"Yeh, Ragdoll's here about the job. Says he'll turn our door into a floor if we don't give it to him."

The figure suddenly burst out laughing, and turned around. His skin was chalk white, with bright green hair and red lips. But the strangest thing was his mouth. It was stretched and twisted into a massive grin, with yellowing teeth. Ragdoll didn't even flinch. The person in the chair seemed dissapointed. "What, no gasping? No yells of fear?"

Ragdoll laughed; a harsh sound that rattled and growled like a rusty engine. "Not for you or anyone else."

The figure in the chair laughed too, and seemed to relax. "Okay then you've got the job Ragdoll. The names Joker, but you can call me boss."

Ragdoll looked confused. "So your not gonna test me, or anything like that?"

Joker laughed again. "You make me laugh. And thats enough for me. Welcome to the gang."

* * *

Ragdoll may have gotten into Joker's gang, but that was only the start of it. Harley, as Joker called the woman who'd hit him, put him through a huge number of tests that ranged from intelligance and fitness to how long he could hold his breath. According to Harley, Ragdoll could hold his breath for ten minutes, lift eight hundred pounds, run over fifteen miles an hour and weighed exactley seventy five pounds. In short, he was long over olympic status and was almost super human. Harley gaped at him. "What are ya, somekind of Meta - Human?"

Ragdoll shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know. All I remember is waking up on the slab and crushing a wall by walking into it. I assume that whoever did this to me altered my physical prowess as well as taking away my merories"

Harley looked shocked. "You have no memories"

"None. Nil, Nada, Nein, Zip. Nothing at all. Like I said, I just remember waking up on the slab."

Harley shuddered. "Okay then. Hey, do you have a costume?"

"Do I need one?"

"Yeah, other wise the Bat will know who you are!"

"Who's the... never mind. Alright, I'll have a costume. But what will I wear?"

Harley grinned, and rammed a small dewlap sack of his head. Taking scissors from the nearby table, she quickly cut eye holes and stood back to admire the effect. "There!"

Ragdoll turned, and looked in the mirror. "It's Scarecrow's costume."

"No, Its yours."

"Its Scarecrow. Put a scary hat on top and give me some bug spray to complete the image."

"Okay then, We'll just have to give you other things to make you look like someone else." Harley turned and walked over to the wardrobe. She pulled out a completely blackversion of her costume. It was ripped, torn, and patched. Several large buttons adorned it. "Hows this?"

Ragdoll laughed. "Give it here then."

Three minutes later Ragdoll came out of the wardrobe, carrying a large kitchen knife, wearing his mask and costume. The look was quite scary.

"How does it feel?" Harley asked.

"Well, lets just say if looks make the man, I'm not even human anymore. It's fantastic."

* * *

I'm really getting into this now.

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	4. Identity crisis

**Ragdoll's POV**.

* * *

My costume actually looked pretty good. The mask still looked faintly like Scarecrow's, but the clothes themselves more then fixed that. Me and Harley had set at her old costume with a pair of scissors, and now I looked like some old clown doll thrown out the window. The look was completed by a pair of nunchucks, which for some reason I knew how to use. Note to self: in past life I might have been a martial artist.

Still, no point worrying about something I didn't remember, there was work to be done. First off: discover how strong I really was. That was easy. I just went down to the local gym (Without my costume) and started liftng weights. I got up to about one ton before someone acused me of cheating. For some strange reason, the gym was smashed to peices that day. Must be karma.

Second: Work out what type of criminal I was going to be. I breifly considered murderer before deciding upon professional theif. Though I could make it as a Hitman later in life. The only Hitman in the world who can bench press a 20 wheeler.

Third: find out what the hell happened to me. That was the hardest part. I checked everywhere. The hospital. Nothing. No birth cetificates, no nothing. Gotham national library didn't have anything, although I did have an interesting conversation with someone in a green hat and trench coat about the benifits of earl grey teabags over tea leaves, and left dissapointed, but with a new insight into the practice of tea parties. Still, there was one last hope. Maybe the place I'd woken up in held some awnsers. But I wasn't expecting much.

What I found was a team of forensic scientists. Despite every single one of my senses begging me to kill them all, I stayed put. Dead men tell no tales, but DNA does, and I wanted to find out my identity on my own, thank you very much. When they left to get something out of there car I simply walked in and took all of their blood samples, hair samples, skin samples and every other sample they had. Then I walked out again, after grabbing the nearby marker pen and drawing a stitched smile onto the table where all the evidance wasn't. My new sign.

* * *

Surprisingly enough, my first mission for The Joker wasn't a murder. It was a recruitment drive. Yes, even Ragdoll has to go knocking on doors. The only difference is that when I knock on a door, it ends up in the next country. I visited all the bars, all the meth houses (That one was the worst. I had to slam a person's face into a burner before anyone took me seriusly, and I had to kill another one to make me feel better). I even went around to blackgate prison to see if anyone wanted out. I got about fifty goons from those escapades, those who'd joined becuase they wanted to, those who joined out of fear or those who were forcfully conscripted. I think there were a couple of policemen in the "wanted to" group.

Joker was pleased, to say the least. "Keep this up, and I might increase your pay!"

"Er, boss?"

"Yes?"

"You don't actually pay me. You just send me out to do things and I do them."

Joker grinned, well grinned more, if that was possible. "Then consider this your first paycheck!" he laughed, pulling out a fat roll of twenty dollar bills. Hell, there must have been at least one hundred in there. I gaped. "Boss. Thats one hell of a lot of money. Are you sure you want to give all that to me?"

Joker shook his head, and pressed it into my hands. "Take it kid, you've earned it!"

Shaking my head and grinning like a chesire cat, I turned around, and saw Harley standing in the corner, staring at me. She blushed when I looked at her, and turned away, but I had seen what was in her eyes. It was a look she usually reserved for Joker. It was pure obsession, with a measure of lust thrown in for good measure.

This couldn't end well. Well at least for me. Harley could fancy whoever she wanted, but when Joker found out about his Harley falling for one of his goons...

There goes my pay...


	5. Humanity is for squares

The shop was a mess: all the windows smashed, the front door broken down and blood smeared all over the checkout desk. Batman frowned at the scene, before continuing with the process of collecting evidence. Robin, meanwhile, was busy trying to work out who could of done the job.

"Killer Croc?"

"No money taken. It could be a example, but he'd send a couple of goons to do that."

"Oh. Joker or Riddler then?"

"No clues left, and no novelty items around."

"Bane?"

"That may be our closest bet. Look at this."

Batman held up a phial. Inside it was the tiniest of tiniest drops of green liquid. "A pure sample of the Venom drug."

"So it was Bane!"

"No. Bane is currently holed up in Arkham; its the only place that can hold him. But its much worse then that. Bane uses a less powerful version of Venom, mixed with steroids and the like. But this is pure, unaltered. Someone's using undiluted venom."

"So that's bad?"

"Imagine Bane's Venom form times fifty. That amount of Venom could reanimate the dead."

* * *

"So what you're saying." Ragdoll snarled, trying to keep his voice very calm and failing, "is that those syringes that were sticking into me were once filled with Venom? That stuff that makes Bane go all crazy psyco?"

The doctor squirmed. He couldn't do anything else, as Ragdoll had an unrelenting grip on the front of his shirt. "Well, yes. The syringes had a small amount of venom in them, so it's possible that they either once contained Venom when you were injected or they were filled with Venom when you were injected. I don't know for sure, but - "

Ragdoll swore loudly and threw the doctor onto his desk, breaking it in two and knocking the doctor out. Swearing again, he sat down on the recently vacated chair and started to think. The goons around him looked at each over nervously. Though they'd seen Ragdoll demonstrate his strength before, they'd never actually seen him in a real temper. Eventually one of the goons cleared his throat. "Er, Boss?"

Ragdoll's masked head snapped round so fast that the goon jumped. "What?" he growled.

"Uhh, well, umm, you see, umm..."

"Out with it! Before you join doctor degree down there!"

"Boss, Venom is an incredibly powerful drug that makes you grow in practicly everything, right?"

"Well done Einstein. So what?"

"So, if it's possible that you've been injected with that stuff, why haven't you grown or anything?"

" One: doctor floor said that the syringes only might have held Venom, not that they did. And two, ermm...". To mask his confusion, Ragdoll stood up and stared out the window. "What I'm worried about is what that venom could have done to me. If I haven't grown, what else happened?" Ragdoll sighed, and turned away. "I wouldn't put it past that stuff to wake the dead."

* * *

"Wake the dead? Come on Bruce, how could that be possible?"

Batman glanced back over his shoulder. Their was an expression of disbelief and - could it be? - fear on the boy wonder's face. "Robin, this is Gotham. Here, anything is possible. Maybe the Venom would stimulate the muscles enough to give an imitation of life. Maybe the subject's brain could be reactivated by the Venom. These are all just ideas."

* * *

"Stop my heart, overload my nervous system, and those are all just ideas. That stuff is sick nasty."

Frustrated, Ragdoll slammed his hand into the wall. This only managed to get him stuck. Ignoring the snickers coming from his hench men, he tugged at his arm. It didn't budge. Grumbling to himself, Ragdoll pulled harder and harder. An ominous creaking sound came from his arm, though he ignored it. Something had to give. With a sickening crack, Ragdoll pulled free. Without his arm.

Ragdoll yelled loudly. Looking at the wall, he saw his arm, wriggling helplessly, with green fluid slowly dripping out of it. He stopped yelling, and glanced down at his shoulder. Gears, pistons, cogs, all slick with blood and more green liquid. He shrugged, spraying more liquid into the air, and saw all his henchmen in a dead faint on the floor. "Huh. And people call me immature."

Reaching over to the wall, Ragdoll gave one last final heave, and his arm finally came loose. Looking at it like it was about to bite him, he waved it around. It flopped limply from side to side, and Ragdoll resisted the temptation to puke. Raising it near his dripping shoulder, he prodded the wound with the severed limb. Wires and tubes started flowing out of it, and connected the two parts together. Soon Ragdoll didn't even have to hold the limb any more, as it slowly made it's way up his side until it reached his shoulder. With a sound like someone hitting a barrel with a baseball bat, his arm reattached it self. Ragdoll tried moving it around. It worked perfectly, right down to the last finger.

Reaching into his pocket with his new limb, Ragdoll pulled out a battered cell phone. Dialing a number, he waited.

"Harley here."

"Harley, it's Ragdoll."

A gasp came down the line, followed by an assortment of clattering and banging. It sounded like Harley had dropped the phone. "Ragdoll! What is it?"

"Remember when we had that little conversation about me being a Meta Human?"

"Yeah, what about it?"

"We were wrong."

"About what?"

"The Human thing."


	6. Watch out for the ceiling

Flex, twist, shake. Flex, twist, shake. Flex, twist, shake, Flex, twist, shake.

Ragdoll fell into a steady rhythm of arm movements as he walked down the street. Still unsure that it was real, he stole a glance at the reattached limb every few seconds, as if it was going to turn around of it's own accord and bite him. When it didn't, he relaxed, and stopped with the arm movements. The same couldn't be said of his goons, who hadn't lowered their guns since they'd come round. It would be reassuring if they were not pointed straight at him.

It got tiring when one of them nearly walked into a busy road in his efforts to keep Ragdoll in his firing range. Ragdoll sighed, grabbed the back of his overcoat, and hauled him out of the way of an oncoming truck. Turning to the nervous group, he spoke in an annoyed tone, "What is the deal?"

The goon he'd just saved cleared his throat awkwardly, "Well boss, it's just... We don't trust you, that's all."

Ragdoll smiled, and the goon recoiled. It wasn't friendly, "Really? Well, then, we're just going to have to change that, arn't we?"

* * *

"That enough trust for ya?"

The goon couldn't reply. Ragdoll's fist was digging too far into his throat to form coherent words. All he could manage was a panicked gargle as Ragdoll started to shake him around. It didn't help that it was a thirty foot drop to the sidewalk below.

Shaking his head, Ragdoll turned around, goon in hand, and put him down on the roof. Speaking to the whole group, he stated, "Joker's gang is nothing without trust. You can trust him to kill each of you eventually and he can trust you to know that. However, with me, trust is a little different. I will make sure each of you do your job, and if not, then trust me, I'll crush your head between my hands. Got it?"

Apart from their disgusted expressions, the group seemed reassured. Ragdoll nodded to himself, and took a step backwards. He realized his mistake as the building fell away beneath him, and windmilled his arms in panic. But whatever he was made of had added a couple of tons, and he was fighting a losing battle. Eventually he simply gave up. Crossing his arms over his chest, corpse style, he allowed himself to tumble backwards to a chorus of astonished gasps. The the wind was whistling past his ears, the ground was coming towards him, and he was laughing.

* * *

Annotella's Pizza was famous for the quality of it's pizza. The topping was mysterious, the meat was best left alone and the dough tasted like the box it was served in. So many people saw it as a gift from heaven when Ragdoll fell through the roof. And a table. And then the floor. Many people cheered.

Ragdoll himself was not in the mood for cheering. Quite the opposite.

"Ohh, my head. God, why couldn't I just stop on the eighth floor?"

Picking himself up, he looked himself over. Nothing major, though Harley would kill him for what he'd done to the costume. Tattered didn't begin to describe it. "Great, he muttered angrily, kicking a bent chair in the direction of the gathering crowd. It soared over their heads and into the distance, and the crowd gradually broke up. Eventually only a gang of teens hung around, and Ragdoll couldn't be bothered scaring them off. That implied effort, and he didn't feel like exerting himself right now. Let them rot.

Ragdoll was just about to look in the hole he'd made to see how deep it really was, when someone coughed behind him. "What?"

"Umm, hi?"

Ragdoll sighed with exasperation, and turned around. All of the teens were standing in front of him, awe on their pus riddled faces. The one in front, the one who'd spoken, spoke again, "Dude, you alright? We saw you fall all the way from the roof, you must have hit at least five floors!"

Ragdoll smiled, "Eight, actually. It's a little talent of mine."

If the teenager opened his mouth any further, he was going to tear something, "Dude!"

Ragdoll laughed, and he almost stopped himself. This wasn't like his usual laugh, which could be best described as cruel. This one seemed to have genuine humor behind it. Keeping the grin on his face, Ragdoll stepped forwards and proffered his hand, "I'm Ragdoll. No last name."

"Awesome!" the boy took his hand and pumped it up and down eagerly, "I'm Mark, and these are my friends!"

As if acting on some hidden signal, all of the teens rushed forwards, each trying to grab Ragdoll's hand and introduce themselves first. When the flurry of introductions was over, Mark pointed over his shoulder with his thumb, "We're heading over to my place, my parents are out. You wanna come?"

Ragdoll considered it. On the one hand, he'd recently discovered he wasn't human, and would quite like to run some tests on himself. On the other hand, he hadn't hung with anyone his age for, well... Never. It'd be a nice experience. So he confirmed. "Awesome dude!" Mark almost yelled, "Come on!"

Ragdoll laughed again, and took his phone out of his pocket. Incredible that it hadn't been crushed, to be honest. Sending a quick text to Harley, telling her where he was going and stuff like that, he walked after the group, a smile on his lips.

Stuff his arm, there was a party to go to.


	7. There has to be a morning after

The room suddenly flashed into view in front of Ragdoll's eyes. He shook his head, and instantly regretted it, as the world's worst headache hit him. He staggered to his feet, retched emptily, and peered groggily around the room. Everywhere there were teenagers in various stages of a drunken stupor, hanging over chairs, sprawled on tables; you name it, it had a body on it. Ragdoll wasn't interested in that though. All he wanted to see was the nearest bottle of Valium.

Tripping over bodies, and trying not to move his throbbing skull, Ragdoll made his way to what used to be a kitchen. Going over to a cupboard, he knelt, shoved aside a girl who reeked of glue, and looked into it. Pushing past bottles of bleach and cans of table polish, he got what he wanted, and withdrew.

Walking back to wherever it was where he had fallen asleep, Ragdoll popped open the bottle and peered inside. He could just make out about ten pills lying at the bottom, and raised it to his mouth.

"Are you sure those are what you want?"

Ragdoll spun around, and winced. He had to stop moving his head so fast. Closing his eyes, he waited until the room stopped spinning, and opened them again. He nearly shut them again. "Batman?"

The caped crusader? Here? Now? Didn't he know the meaning of privacy? "Look, Batsy, we haven't met before, and I would love to change that. But right now, I have a headache so huge it could kill a rhino, so lets just postpone this little encounter, huh?"

The talking thing wasn't going so well. Ragdoll sounded like he'd scraped a razor back and forth across his throat, gurgling, bubbling, rasping. He swallowed a mouth full of bile, and leaned against a wall. Hopefully Batsy would keep this short.

But the dark knight showed no sign of leaving. Instead, he walked forwards, and grabbed Ragdoll by the shirt. Glaring down at the boy, he attempted to look intimidating. He looked disgruntled when Ragdoll started laughing. He looked even worse when Ragdoll kicked him in the stomach. He looked awful when he smashed through the table.

Ragdoll strode forwards, headache forgotten in the spur of the moment. Stepping over the wreckage of the table, he picked Batman up, spun around, and launched him back into the kitchen. A loud crash told him all he needed to know, and he started laughing. He stopped when the headache returned, and stumbled towards the open front door.

Something spun around his legs, and Ragdoll nearly fell. Growling like an engine, he reached down, and tugged at the cord entrapping his ankles. A yell, followed by the sound of snapping wood, then silence. Ragdoll peered over his shoulder to see a Batman shaped hole through the floor. Giggling like a little girl, he left, after writing a note of thanks and picking up the bottle of pills.

* * *

"Where the hell have you been?"

Ragdoll groaned, and collapsed onto a couch. It wasn't even twelve and he was getting shouted at. Great.

"Look, I fell off, and through, a building, and got offered a party. How could I have refused?"

"Very easily. You just say NO!"

Ragdoll growled, his temper rising. He had a hangover, a headache, and was about ready to puke, and Harley had the nerve to shout at him? "Look, doll face. You are neither my mother nor my employer. You are simply a hanger on in my world. Now shut up, and get out!"

Harley looked shocked, and tears formed in her eyes. But she still stood there, "Make me!"

Ragdoll growled again, this time louder and scarier. Getting up, he walked over to a nearby metal table. He slammed his fist into it, punching a huge hole through it. Turning around, he saw Harley running away, crying her eyes out. Walking back over to the couch, he lay down on it, swallowed the last of the pills, and fell asleep.

* * *

"RAGDOLL!"

Once again, the room flashed into view in front of Ragdoll's eyes. With a yell, he rolled over, and fell onto the floor. Rubbing his still aching skull, he ran into what could pass for Joker's office. "Yeah boss?"

"Good man. I want you to go and get some money."

"Yes boss. Legal or Illegal?"

"What do you think?"

Ragdoll smirked, "You pay me to beat people up boss, not to think."

Joker laughed then, as insane as always, "Very good point! Now, go my minion!"

Ragdoll nodded, and turned around. He saw Harley in the corner, her eyes red and her makeup smudged. She turned away angrily, and Ragdoll laughed softly.

He'd make it up to her later. Once he'd killed a few people.

* * *

Aww poor Harley! Still, I'll make it up to her. Possibly.

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	8. It's all fun and games

Sam looked up from her magazine to see a boy standing in front of her. She smiled at him, and after a moment, he smiled back. He had deep green eyes, hair as black as pitch, and the only things that blemished his face were the scars. He actually looked quite nice.

"Umm, hi?"

Blushing, Sam pushed the magazine underneath the table and folded her arms, "Hi! I'm Sam, welcome to Gotham Bank, how can I help you?"

The boy grinned even wider, and put his hands on the booth desk, "You can start by dieing nicely."

"What?"

Then the boy opened his hands and Sam understood.

* * *

Gotham Bank rocked with the force of the explosion. Masonry fell in chunks from the ceiling, stone columns cracked and splintered, and everywhere people were screaming. The whole building seemed to be collapsing around them.

Eventually, the dust settled, and things stopped falling. Ragdoll took his hands off his head and started walking towards the center of the room. When he reached an area that was almost intact he called out, "Everyone stay where you are, unless you want to end up like Sammy over there. And there. And there. And there's a bit over there too. Ewww, I think that bit's her face!"

Brushing the offending blob of flesh from his foot, Ragdoll looked around. Spying a metal cube that seemed to survived the explosion, he walked over and grabbed it. Something sparked on his arm, and he looked at it.

Now, one of the problems of holding two live grenades, is that sooner or later, they're going to explode, along with the hands holding them. Ragdoll's arms from the elbows down were a mass of twisted metal, ripped wires, dripping venom, and bleeding flesh. As soon as he looked down at the injuries, flesh reattached itself, metal warped and bent back into shape, wires twisted and plugged themselves into Ragdoll's arm, and a new layer of skin started to grow on to of it.

Feeling slightly disgusted, Ragdoll resumed pulling out the safe. When he got it out, he grabbed the front, and heaved. It came off, and Ragdoll peered inside. A huge amount of notes and credit numbers lay at the bottom. Emptying the whole thing into a dewlap sack tied to the belt of his costume, Ragdoll turned to leave. Then something grabbed his attention.

A little boy, about five, was clutching his mother's dead body, too hysterical to even cry, simply holding it and whimpering softly. The woman had been caught by a piece of grenade shrapnel in her forehead, killing her instantly. But that didn't stop the boy crying.

Ragdoll stared for a moment. Then walked out without saying anything else. But everyone there saw the tears running down his face.

* * *

Sitting at the top of the hill, looking down at the winking lights of Gotham City, Ragdoll could almost forget what he had done. Almost.

He'd killed people before. Dozens of them. Those goons he killed in the meth house, a pedestrian who looked at him funny, Sam, to name just a few.

And that boy's mother.

Ragdoll closed his eyes, tilting his head backwards, trying to hold the tears back. Why was this bothering him so much?

Because he'd never had to deal with the consequences before.

Groaning softly, Ragdoll ran a hand through his hair. Raising his head, he watched some of the lights go out, and wondered if any of them belonged to the boy.

The boy without his mother.

"AAARGH!" Ragdoll yelled. Jolting upwards, he punched the ground hard, leaving a small crater. He spun around, and punched a hole clear through a tree. Picking up a huge rock, he started bashing himself over the head with it, trying to drive the thoughts out. But all he managed to do was break the rock.

Giving up, Ragdoll slumped against the tree he'd punched, and leaned his head against it. It was just a crying kid. Sure, he might be mentally scarred by the loss of his mother, but it was only a kid.

Wasn't it?

A car sped along below him, it's bright lights stabbing into what might have once been his retinas. A few drunk kids leaned out of the window, and yelled abuse at Ragdoll. He briefly considered killing them, but decided he was too depressed and simply pulled the finger. The car zoomed away, and he returned to his thoughts.

"Hey,"

Ragdoll jumped, and leapt to his feet. Spreading his feet and clenching his fists, he got ready to fight. But unless he was going to punch a tree again, there was nobody around.

"Up here!"

Ragdoll craned his neck, and peered into the tree. He couldn't see anything, but then he caught a glimpse of red and black...

"Harley? What the..."

The madcap girl swung down, and leaned against Ragdoll's recently vacated spot. She gave him an interested look, but didn't speak. She seemed completely comfortable with the situation. Ragdoll, on the other hand, was scuffing his feet, and staring anywhere but at Harley.

_"How do you talk to someone you've yelled at and threatened?"_

Ragdoll eventually looked up, and saw Harley smiling. It was a friendly smile, and this gave Ragdoll courage. Standing up straight, he cleared his throat of... well, whatever he had instead of flem now.

"Umm, Harley, about this morning-"

Harley leaned forwards and hugged him. Ragdoll froze, his sentence dying in his mouth. Whatever he had been expecting, this was not it. Slowly, he brought his hands up and hugged her back. Judging from the small happy sound coming from Harley, this was the right thing to do, and Ragdoll felt pleased with himself.

After what seemed like an eternity, Harley broke away, and Ragdoll breathed a mental sigh of relief. All was forgiven.

* * *

Phew.

You know, someday I'll write a nice, pleasant chapter in which Ragdoll helps people, sings happy songs, and just gets along with humanity.

And when that day comes, you'll know it's time to drag me off to Arkham.

Review!


	9. Flip sides

"I'm sorry I shouted at you. It was wrong of me, and I should have respected your personal space."

Ragdoll blinked, momentarily confused by the long words in the sentence. When he figured out what Harley had said, he laughed, "You ain't got nothing to be sorry for Harls. I was the one who acted badly. I should've at least ringed you."

Harley shook her head, "No, it was me. You have your own life, and I shouldn't be intruding."

"Why are you so hard on yourself?"

* * *

"Is everything prepared?"

The gas masked man looked down from the gantry into the operating chamber. He only responded after he'd looked at everything, "yes sir. We managed to recover much of the tech used to create V.1, the nanobots have been programmed and the weapon systems are online. Everything is ready for you, sir."

The other man seemed satisfied by this, and stood up from his chair. Walking of the gantry and down a flight of stairs, he came into the operating room. Bio suited scientists respectfully moved out of his way, clutching test tubes full of green liquid. The man ignored them, and moved to the main table.

A dead body was strapped securely onto the table. Heavily armed guards were pointing their rifles at the corpse, and the man didn't blame them. If it wasn't for the fact that he was the one working on the corpse, he would have brought in a gun too. As such, he had to make do with a kevlar vest.

The man strapped a medical mask to his face, and picked up his surgical knife.

"Let us begin," He muttered.

* * *

"I'm not hard on myself. Am I?"

"Honey, you have no idea."

Harley blushed at the nickname, and Ragdoll grinned. Not his usual maniac grin, a nicer, more caring one. Getting up, he paced back and forth, "Lets see. Just now, you blame yourself for my problem. When Joker kicks you out, you blame yourself. When he insults you, you blame yourself. You're one big pile of self hate."

The girl looked sheepishly at her feet. Ragdoll continued, "You never stand up for yourself. You always assume you're in the wrong, even when you're so right it hurts me to admit it. So far, you're the only one brave enough to yell at me when I'm angry, and the only one to hit me with a mallet. You've got so much going for you, but it's like you refuse to admit it."

"Stop it,"

Harley had gone a deep shade of red, but the smile on her face was huge. Leaning over, she grabbed Ragdoll's legs and held him, "You mean it?"

"Cross my possibly non existing heart."

The madcap girl shuddered, and held him tighter. Ragdoll wobbled a little, then sat down again. He put his arm around Harley's shoulders and instantly felt her tense up. Frowning, he looked at her.

"I ain't gonna hurt ya. What's wrong?"

* * *

The Venom transplant had gone very well. The corpse was now completely drained of blood, and the super drug was now being pumped into the broken body. All that was needed now was the implants.

Moving away from the corpse, the man reached over to a table covered with what looked like bionic organs. Picking up the largest, he cradled it in his hands like it was a small child. Returning to the body, he pried open the large cut down it's chest and looked inside.

The heart had been removed with incredible surgical skill. Apart from a few steadily dripping arteries, there was no sign that it had even been in the body. The man felt a rush of pride at his skill, and placed the bionic inside the cadaver.

Instantly, wires and pipes began to spread out of the piece of metal. Some connected to the severed arteries, and began sucking in the Venom; others stabbed into the surrounding flesh and secured the organ.

The man smiled under his mask as the anchorage flesh began to turn silver, and more wires came out of it.

* * *

"I'll kill him."

Harley looked at Ragdoll's face, expecting to see a humorous expression on his features. Her heart went cold when she saw that he wasn't smiling. Or laughing. Or anything at all friendly.

Instead, his jaw was clenched so hard it looked like it would crack. His eyes were actually glowing with anger, their usual dark green now almost florescent. The change from caring to homicidal was terrifying, and Harley was reminded about their conversation about Ragdoll not being human. She didn't believe him at first, but now she knew that that wasn't pure human anger. There was something else, something primal.

"I'm gonna rip his legs off, and feed them to his own hyenas. I'm gonna tear out his heart and show it to his dying eyes. I'm gonna burn him for every single time he's even brushed against you."

Harley felt a little sick, "No Ragdoll! Mr J didn't mean it, he just doesn't know his own strength!"

Ragdoll reached over and grabbed her arm. Pushing back the sleeve, he pointed at the huge bruises running down it, "Don't give me that crap! Harley, if you let Joker carry on like this, he's going to kill you!"

The girl squirmed in Ragdoll's grip, and he let go. Clambering to his feet, he continued ranting, "I'm gonna show him just how strong I can be! Nobody touches my Harley and -"

"Wait, what do you mean, your Harley?"

Ragdoll suddenly stopped talking. In fact, he stooped doing anything altogether.

* * *

It was beautiful.

If possible, it was even better then V.1. Perfectly toned muscles stretched over the robotic elements, the flesh pale and smooth. He'd made sure there were no mistakes this time; there were no scars covering the body's chest, and no hastily stitched dewlap instead of flesh. This time, it was perfect.

It was the mind though, that the man praised over. Whereas the V.1 had a central memory system that could be likened to a hard drive, the V.2 had a wireless system. Simply put, it was hooked up to to the internet, and was constantly downloading new information. If needed, it could seek specific information relevant to the task at hand. It was a supercomputer in a god's body.

The man was tempted to flip the switch and activate it now, just so he could see it working. But no, he had to contain himself. An activation too early could short circuit the wires before they had a chance to connect properly. It would have to wait.

* * *

"Aah. You see, what I meant by that was, uum, well, what I meant to say was that, when I said - "

Harley shut Ragdoll up in the only way she knew how. It was also the only way she wanted to do it.

* * *

Getting steamy in here XD

I've noticed that the chapters seem to be steadily getting longer and longer. You lucky people...

Reviews! I live for reviews!


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